NINE
Cammie
Duke swaggers across the road toward Archie’s shop. Bets are on the bastard not feeling the slightest bit guilty about his attitude.
I get it—he probably has his demons. But the way he snapped at me, and the hate in his eyes as he did so … That man has one heck of a violent side sitting just below the surface. When and if it decides to show, I know one thing for sure: I don’t want to be around to see the aftermath.
I put the car in gear, yet hesitate when my phone rings inside my bag. Returning the shifter to neutral, I race to get my phone out before I lose the call to voicemail. Part of me wonders why I didn’t let it go when I see who’s calling.
“It’s the weekend,” I answer, bypassing formalities.
“So?” Jared asks. “What does that matter?”
“I had hoped you’d let me have at least a couple of days off where I didn’t have to think about it.”
“This is the real world, Cam. You don’t get to bury your head in the sand and pretend things don’t need to get done.”
Arsehole. “What are you calling about then?”
“I’ve got a shortlist of agents I want you to look at.” I’m still not ready for this. “I thought if you’re home, I’d pop over later and go through it with you.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m not mentally prepared. It’s barely been a week since he sprung the decision on me.
Then again—will I ever be ready if the task is something I don’t want to do?
“I’m out running errands at the moment, but I should be back by eleven-thirty.” I lean forward, resting my forehead on the steering wheel. “I’ve got to be back on the road by twelve-thirty, though, for the afternoon show.
“You still wasting your time with that?” He sighs, as though my social life inconveniences him. “Kell and I are busy right now as well. I can come over between shows, around five.”
Of course. Because he won’t come now if it means he has to bring her with him. He knows better after what happened last time.
“See you then.” I disconnect, keeping my head on the steering wheel, and groan. A goddamn shortlist. May as well say he’s picked the agency. What’s the bet the arsehole had the list curated before he approached me with the request? I wouldn’t put it past him to have a contract drawn up with one of them already, and this is just his fake bullshit show of making me feel “involved”.
My eyes drift to the rear-view as I straighten up, but Duke is nowhere to be seen anymore. Good. I’ve had it with men—all of them. The only man I know of that’s half-decent is my dad, but even then, he has his days.
I make the drive two blocks down to the grocery store with my eyes on the road, but my mind is on the past four and a half years.
It wasn’t your fault. The same bullshit lie I tell myself every time to try and reason why I should be moving on with my life. But at the end of the day, how can I believe that when I failed the one basic rule you’re silently given when you become a parent: keep your child alive.
I pull the keys from the ignition and get out, opening my bag to drop them in after I’ve locked the car. My eye snags on one of my many crutches, buried deep in the dark recess of the main compartment. My fear morphs into an immovable lump in my throat as I reach in and exchange the car keys for the toy.
A Polly Pocket. One of her favourites, and the very one that would send her into a fit if I didn’t have it with me when we went shopping.
Just like I am now.
I should put it back. Hell, I should toss the little plastic compact in the trash on my way past. After all, it’s useless to me now.
But it was hers.
So instead, Polly takes a ride with me around the supermarket, perched on the fold-out kids seat in the front of the shopping trolley. I pack it away when I get to the checkout, the same sinking feeling taking root in the pit of my gut when I drop the toy back into the dark.
“Hey, Cammie. How was your week? The show doing good?”
I detach from the past and lift my chin to face Ava. She’s worked the checkouts at the local grocery store since I was I primary school, always pointing out the chocolate that was on special when I came in with my pocket money. She won’t take credit for it, but a lot of the customers come here to keep up with her, rather than save ten dollars shopping on the other side of town.
I’m one of those people.
“The show’s going great,” I say as I pack the bagged goods into the trolley. “Sold out yesterday’s matinee.”
“That’s good. What one are you doing this time again?”
“Pirates of Penzance.”
She chuckles. “Oh. That’s always a good one. I should convince Ed he needs to go.”
“Call it a date.” I throw her a sly wink.
It sends her into fits of laughter as she scans and bags my goods with a speed that belies her sixty-four years. She could have retired a while ago, but I think she secretly enjoys the chance to get paid for catching up with her “children”. She’s a mother figure to those of us who’ve stayed local after school finished, always there to lend an ear, or in my case, offer support when it was needed most.
“Saw you with that toy of hers.” Ava tips her head toward where my bag sits on the far side of the scanner.
Yeah—she also calls me out on my bullshit.
“I saw it in there when I was putting my keys away,” I reason. “I didn’t search it out on purpose.”
“Maybe not, but why have you still got it in your bag, honey?”
I hold her soft and soothing gaze. “You know why.”
She clucks her tongue and rearranges the vegetables so my celery stalks won’t tip out of the bag. “A busy woman like you needs more iron in her diet, you know.”
“What?” I protest with a chuckle. “I’ve got lots of vegetables and yoghurt.”
“And one tray of meat.” She perks an eyebrow. “More iron, miss. If you don’t buy it, I’ll show up on your damn doorstep after my shift and bring it to you.”
“Okay, okay.” I hold my hands up. “I’ll buy more … next time.”
“Good.” She totals the order and leans back on her seat while I do the payment. “You showing up for the school fundraiser this week?”
“You know I wouldn’t miss it.”
Doesn’t matter that I have no children at the kindergarten anymore. I owe it to them for the effort they’d put in when I needed the help, to repay the favour.
“Apparently I’m in charge of face painting this year,” I tell Ava. “One of the guys on our crew has a son who goes there. He gave me the box of paints the other night and wished me luck.”
She chuckles, tearing off my receipt and handing it over. “Girl, if that work of art on your face is anything to go by, you’ll be fine.”
“It’s only a bit of eye shadow and liner, Ava.” I tuck the paper into my shopping, purposefully avoiding my bag.
“When you’re as old and wrinkly as me, love, you don’t bother putting anything on your face anymore, so it’s nice to see someone who takes the time to do it right.”
“Say hi to Ed for me, and tell him I said he needs to take you on a date.” I leave her with a smile and head out to the car to load up with the groceries.
Archie’s tow truck cruises past as I place the last bag into the boot of the BMW, heading away from his shop. I close the car, and watch as he takes a corner and disappears from view. Guess that meeting didn’t take long. If Duke tried pulling the same attitude he did with me, then I can guarantee Archie would have shut it down just as fast.
My stomach grumbles as I open the car door, making it known Donna’s muffin wasn’t enough to fill the gap. I mentally catalogue what I bought, planning what I’m going to devour first as I pull out of the car park and head for home.
I make it as far as the edge of town before my food-fantasy is brought to an abrupt halt. I should have taken the long way home for a change, avoided passing the motels on my out. Except I didn’t, and yet again, the Good Samaritan inside of me reaches for the handbrake as I come to a stop on the side of the road.
I really need to learn how to mind my business.